is the problem.
it so often turns
into a no-holds-barred
– chase
to possess an itch
that cannot be scratched

Yet all the while

there is in fact
nothing ever

Every object of our passions
– worthy of the effort
to seek it, touch it,
give it birth
lies within painless
ready reach, but

To clench it first
with mind
in jaw, in tooth, in fist
is to annihilate
the spirit of love
that lives within it.

for an instant,
in the eyes a reflection

a sudden rush of the familiar
a sensation of home

self’s true nature

recognizing it
in another, then
thoughts of its possession

– a fleeting illusion

for love
will not have this.

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